[The laughter is startling enough, if not an incomprehensible reaction to the situation in which all of them find themselves, which is undeniably alarming -- and what is alarming is frequently interpretable as absurd. Far more startling is the question. OA finds herself pinned on the receiving end of the inquiry by virtue of failing to look uncomfortably away and pretend as though she hasn't heard it. She stands wide-eyed, deer-in-headlights, fishing about for a useful answer.

Her glance down at herself says enough. She's adorned as she generally is in a gently unusual, less than stylish array of clothing, blending fabrics, textures, fits in a way that clearly betrays her priorities: she wears what's available first, what's comfortable next, and what's fashionable dead last, if she considers that question at all. No fancy bra hides beneath the ideosyncratic, androgynous attire. A sports bra at best. Some days she doesn't bother to wear one at all.]

I...

[She clamps her mouth shut, shaking her head.]

Sorry. Um, I could... walk with you, if you like. Into the city. I'm sure we could find something.

[She pauses for a moment, then points to her own lip to indicate the split in Jedao's.]

Do you want some ice for that?